A Cheating Man's Heart 2

by Derrick Jaxn

  While I went and did that, she opened up the folded piece of paper and started reading aloud.

  "Your heart's filled with pride and other things you have hard times expressing,

  So you lie to yourself but it's no longer effective,

  Because the truth that you're not doing so well hurts too much to accept it,

  And you don't feel like sitting through another one of your momma's lectures.

  Unexpected confessions from exes left you breathless

  In deep depression, thinking reckless, even insecure about features in your reflection.

  You always saw the good in people despite their imperfections

  Because your Christian values taught you to forgive and forget it,"

  She stopped there, looking up from the paper at me.

  "Shawn, this is amazing. I can't even finish it because it gets me teary-eyed at the end every time, and with this wine in me, ain't no tellin' how much I'll be crying."

  We both laughed while she folded it back up and placed it carefully back into the box. She treated it like it was a precious jewel being placed back into a treasure chest. Little things like that always mattered to me.

  I went to give her a refill but she put her hand up, "No, that's enough for me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk, sir."

  "Drunk for what? You was sober for everything else we did. You even let me record it a few times."

  She sucked her teeth, "Whatever. Now may be a good time to get some direction about what it is we are actually doing."

  My mind went back to the comic from earlier that night. He called this one, eight-ball left corner pocket, and hit it right on the money.

  "I don't know. What do you want to be doing and do you think we're ready for it? After everything with--you know..."

  "You mean with you cheating on me? I've already forgiven you. I forgave you right after. It's the trust that you lost, not my forgiveness. Now, that might take a while to build again, but if we want it to, it's possible. But it can't just be me; you gotta want it too."

  "And I do want it. I just don't want this to keep haunting us, and I don't know if it's been enough time to really have a clean slate. I don't even really know if I'm ready for a relationship. I just know that what I feel for you is real and you always told me that when it's real, it's right."

  She looked at me, seemingly trying to decide if whether or not what I just said was acceptable.

  "Shawn, I don't do the part-time, let's just go slow and have no accountability situation-ship. Either you want all of me, or you deserve none of me. That's how I've always been."

  "I understand," I admitted.

  She shifted in her seat and drank the last of her wine. "Quick question. I don't think I ever asked this, but why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why did you cheat on me? I'm not tryna badger you about it, but I'm curious as to why? If I'm really what you wanted and still do now, then why did you ever cheat in the first place?"

  I paused for a moment, making sure I chose my words carefully. I'd actually tried to explain this to her before, but this was no time to bring that up.

  "Honestly, Danielle, it's complicated. I mean the simple answer is that I was too young. Too immature. Needed to get it wrong before I could get it right. And that wouldn't be a lie. But, tonight's a nice night, and if it's okay with you, I'd like to keep it that way. Can we save the long answer for later?"

  She shrugged, "Yeah, we can. Like I said, I'm not trying to throw it in your face. But if you're serious about wanting my trust back, and when you feel like you're ready, I'm willing to give you a chance."

  A knocking came at the door. I knew we weren't being loud so it shouldn't have been the police.

  They knocked again, a little louder this time.

  "Hold on," I said, setting my glass down and going to see who it was.

  I opened the door.

  Slammed it right back closed. It was Chantel.

  She was on the other side and I didn't know why.

  "Shawn!" she yelled out, her voice squeezing through the cracks between the door and its frame.

  I looked back at Danielle, like an idiot, and of course, her eyes were seething. Not an ounce of love in them. I know she heard Chantel's voice, and no matter what, I was going to have to open that door. So I did, but only slightly.

  "Why did you slam the door in my face, Shawn? I just came by to get my pics from you. I saw the ones you posted today."

  "The hell you had to come so late for? You couldn't text? Damn, I'm in the middle of something."

  "Well, I'm about to head out of town and you wasn't answering your phone so I just came by. Your light was on so I knew you were up. How come you didn't answer my text?"

  She really had some nerve. "Like I said, I am in the middle of something. I'll email you the pics tomorrow. You can pick the disc up another time."

  "I'm already here. You might as well just go get it for me now."

  I didn't want to argue anymore. The longer I took, the longer Danielle was sitting there contemplating how much of what she had just said to me about rebuilding her trust she was going to be taking back.

  "Stay right here," I told her, articulating myself clearly so there was no mistake. I even waited a second or two for a facial confirmation that she understood before I walked over to the counter to look for the disc with her pictures on them.

  A few seconds later, I turned around and saw Chantel already two steps in the house and mid-way through a staring match with Danielle.

  "Hello," Chantel said, confrontationally.

  "Hi," Danielle replied, not backing down.

  I sped walked back, shoving the disc into Chantel's hand and nudging her out.

  "Here, take it. Now leave."

  I shut the door behind her and turned around to lean on it. Eyes closed, exhaling with what the fuck? going through my thoughts.

  "No females over, huh? Just you, right?"

  "It's not what you think. I swear, she's just a client of mine."

  "What kinda client is so comfortable, she just pops up at two in the morning? You know what, don't answer. It's not like we're together or anything. You can do what you want, Shawn. But right now, what I want is for you to take me home, please."

  "Danielle, come on, don't be like that. It really isn't what it seems. I promise."

  My words fell on deaf ears. She was already standing, purse in hand, and arms folded.

  What a night cap.

  Chapter 8

  Stop Resisting

  "All right, brosky. The packet looks good, how ya coming along with the money?" Ronnie said, putting down my application for the fraternity and looking back up at me.

  "The money is comin'. I'm about three or four photo shoots away from having the full amount and I already have two of those scheduled for later on this week."

  "Good. I know it's been stressful, but it'll all be worth it later. Just wait. I know you'll be the tail dog. None of the other aspirants are your size. Just get ready, 'cause this is going to change everything."

  "Everything like what?"

  "Like the way people see you on campus. The opportunities you have in the real world. Everything. You'll never have to worry about getting the honeys to like you again either."

  We still call women honeys?

  I rocked back in the chair, sorting through the thoughts of what happened a few nights ago when my date night with Danielle got through into a fiery furnace.

  "I can't lie, the professional perk sounds straight, but I ain't really trippin' on having any more honeys. I got cavities as it is."

  We both laughed in agreement. He mostly thought I was bragging. That's almost always what brothers do on the subject of women.

  I caught a glimpse of a picture on his desk over by his laptop of him and his nearly identical elder.

  "So, how's that going?"

  "What?" he asked following my eyes to the picture behind him. "Oh, that. I mean,
it's not going. I haven't talked to 'im yet. But I will."

  "Look, man, don't wait until it's too late. He's your pops. I'm sure he's waiting to hear from you anyway."

  "Maybe. I don't know, I'm not that good with words. I don't think it'll come out right, and if it doesn't, it could just make things worse."

  "Well, then write it down first. Or just send him a letter."

  "I'm not good at that either." He looked down embarrassingly. "Wait, you said something about you used to write. didn't you?" He turned his head back to me, bulbs in his head blinking their way on.

  I tried to flip that switch back off. "Yeah, but only poetry. I don't know about anything else. I barely scraped by in my English classes."

  "But still, you probably know more than me about how to express stuff like this. Why don't you help me write it. I'll change anything that doesn't fit the way I'm feeling."

  "Nah, man, that wouldn't be real. It's gotta come from your heart."

  "Well, what would you say to your dad in this situation?" he looked at me and asked.

  I looked away, a little disturbed by the pressure to actually think about it. I hadn't told Ronnie about me and my pops. I think he assumed we were close because he never asked.

  At times I did miss my dad and wondered what kind of relationship we'd have if he was still in my life.

  I began, "I guess, if I was you...I'd just tell my dad that he doesn't know what he's missing, that his son is growing up into someone he'd be proud of if he gave himself the chance to know first-hand. No guarantee, but a chance is better than what some fathers get who are dead or locked up, and since I don't want to take the opportunity for granted, I'm stepping up and letting him know that I miss him, that he's necessary in my life in case he felt otherwise. That his son loves him despite his mistakes but it's time to make it right. Later is no longer good enough. That I need him now."

  Silence fell in the room for a few seconds. I was lost in thought as if I really was speaking to my old man.

  "Man, that is perfect. That's exactly what I'mma say. You might have a gift."

  I forced out a smile despite the weight my heart had taken on. If only I could get that message to him in real life.

  "Cool, glad I could help. I'm sure if you say that, he'll take it from there. Just be honest with him. That's all you can do."

  He pushed his frames up onto the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to take your advice. See, that's why I don't mind helping you. You're a real stand-up guy, Shawn. I could tell when I first met you. I'd be proud to call you my life-long brother and I'll see to it the others agree. I'm going fight for you, man."

  We did another bro hug before parting ways. I needed to get to the cafeteria before it closed for the evening.

  I walked in to see the last students coming out and all the cafeteria workers cleaning up the tables.

  Auntie was over in the corner moving a little slower than usual, with her eyes dazed as she wiped in one spot over and over.

  I forgot about getting food and went over to speak to her first.

  "Hey, Auntie. You doing all right?" She parted her lips as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. "Auntie?"

  Her lips started trembling and a tear fell onto the table. "You can talk to me, Auntie. What is it?"

  She began weeping silently as she collapsed onto the seat to sit down. I sat down beside her and rubbed her back, hoping it'd provide some kind of comfort.

  She quickly composed herself enough to speak. "I won't complain. I won't do it. I won't complain. You got to have faith in the good and the bad. And I won't complain."

  "I'm not asking you to complain, I'm just asking you to tell me what's on your mind. That's not a sin, is it?"

  "No, I suppose it ain't," she responded. "My grandbaby. He done got himself into some trouble I believe. I done tried my best with him since his mama left 'im but I just don't know what to do no mo'. I was cleaning up the house yesterday and came across a gun stashed under his mattress."

  I hated the sound of guns. I promised myself and Danielle after we threw the last one in the lake that it'd be the last time I ever touched one.

  "How old is he?"

  "He ain't but fifteen years old. Still a baby. Now tell me what a baby doin' with a gun? Nothing besides get himself either killed or in jail," she said, going back into a silent weep with tears refilling the ducts of her eyes.

  I hurt for and with her. I didn't know what to do or what to say. But I wanted to do something.

  "Maybe I can talk to him since I'm a little younger."

  "No, sweetie, you don't needs to be tangled up in no mess with him. You a good boy, and you in school about to get you a good job. I'm just gon' pray and everythang gon' work itself on out. The good Lawd gon' fix it. Yes, he will."

  "I'm sure, but maybe he's trying to use me to help fix it. I don't know, but if he's got a gun, there's gotta be a reason. Maybe he's getting bullied or something. Auntie, let me talk to him. I can try to get through, and if not we'll pray some more but faith without works is dead. Ain't that what the Word say?"

  I was far from the most religious person in the world. God and I had been on rocky terms once before, mostly just out of my ignorance to the way he worked, but after a while, I started to trust that either he had my back or that if he didn't, there was nothing I could do about it. Might as well keep the faith.

  "You shole is right. If you can come tonight that'll be good. I think he planning on going somewhere tomorrow to do something with them lil' boys he hang with. I overheard him talking yesterday. It wouldn't be too much trouble, would it?"

  "Not at all, just let me know where to come and I'll be there. We can go for a ride or something and have a man-to-man."

  "Okay, sweetie. I live over on Franklin Street, the first house right there on the corner, the blue one. You can't miss it." She wiped her eyes and sniffled. "Thank you so much, young man. God bless you."

  "Ain't no problem, Auntie. I'mma see you later on tonight."

  I got up, shook.

  I was a little nervous about the whole thing. I was a country boy, and while I knew a few guys from the hood, I was no gangster. Not even close.

  Don't get me wrong, I had heart, but I couldn't possibly imagine what I had to offer to someone who was really about that life. I just know I needed to tell him something, something my dad would tell me.

  I arrived that night about nine o'clock, curious if anyone was home because there was no car in the driveway and the lights were all off. Her house was small, a torn-up screen door in the front, patchy grass that needed to be cut, and an old Buick in the front that look like it'd been through every hurricane, tornado, and tsunami.

  I had to have waited at least five minutes before her grandson came out.

  He was about average height, very dark skinned with dreads and a full beard. This fifteen-year-old looked like he could be my uncle with the exception that he dressed like a teenager. His pants sagged off his behind and he was wearing a shirt that was at minimum, four sizes too big, plain black like the rest of his outfit.

  He opened the passenger side door, then got in and closed it without saying a word, looking straight forward.

  "What's good, man? I'm Shawn," I said breaking the silence and leaving my hand out for him to shake it.

  He didn't even look my way. I almost kicked him out my damned car for his rudeness and the fact he reeked of marijuana, but I remembered telling Auntie I would try, so I bit my tongue and pulled out the driveway.

  I didn't have a destination, but I did have enough gas for at least a thirty-minute ride.

  About twenty went by with neither of us saying anything before I got fed up with the silence.

  "Look, I ain't here to beg you. I ain't here to be your best friend. Your grandmother told me you might be getting into some heavy stuff so I just wanted to talk to you about it."

  "For what? What's that gon' do?" he said, speaking for the first time.

  His voice had a little too
much base in it for my taste, but again, I kept cool and went ahead talking to him.

  "I don't know but it's a start. You can at least tell me your name."

  "I ain't telling you nothin'. You and everybody else already got an opinion of me. My name ain't gon' make no difference."

  "Fine then, you won't have a name in here. What's the deal with you carrying a gun around the crib?"

  He looked at me and shook his head. "I knew she was gon' find it."

  "Well?"

  "Well, what?"

  "What you doing with a gun?"

  "You don't know what guns are for? You a school boy, surely they done taught you what guns do even if you only seen 'em on TV."

  That was it. Didn't know or care who he was at this point. Enough was enough. "You got one more time to talk to me like you crazy. I'm on your side. I'm tryna help you."

  "Help me how? You gon' put food on the table? Huh? You gon' go get the lights cut back on?" He raised his voice louder. "You gon' raise my grandmama's pay after forty years working the same fuckin' job with nothing to show for it?"

  I could hear pain in his voice. "Look, my bad, I didn't mean it like that--"

  "You gon' finally get her a car so she can stop walking to that job every day? Six miles there, six miles back. Every day for forty years. You gon' make my mama come back and give a damn about me enough to stop gettin' high on dope 'bout every day?" His voice was cracking now, on the verge of tears. "No. You not. So sit there and drive us back to my house. I'll tell Grandma you did a good job so she can keep giving you more food than you know you supposed to get. That's all you use her for anyway."

  "First off, I don't use your grandmother for anything. She comes to work, she does her job, and sometimes, yes, she does give more than she has to. That's just because what kind of lady she is. That's why it bothers me you stressing her out even more. No, I don't know you but I do know that much."

  "I'm stressing her out but I'm the only reason we still got a place to stay. They doubled the rent on us three years ago. Electric bill damn near did the same thing. You think she been paying that? No. I'm paying that. And it just so happens, I need a lil' protection to make sure I can continue. Stress is better than homeless."